


A Merry Little Christmas

by wendelah1



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Christmas, Episode Tag, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendelah1/pseuds/wendelah1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was going to do the right thing and apologize and promise never to trick her into investigating a haunted house on a major federal holiday again. Post-ep for 6x8 "How the Ghosts Stole Christmas."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cordy69 (Pat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pat/gifts).



> Written for [The X-Files Secret Santa Community](http://xf-santa.livejournal.com/) at LiveJournal.

Despite its promising beginning, this Christmas had gone much like every other holiday for Mulder. After sending Scully off to spend the day with her family, Mulder had dutifully headed down to his aunt's house in North Carolina to make it for early dinner. The meal had been pleasant enough. The long drive there and back had given him time to think about Christmas Eve. And Christmas morning.

He was a guilty man. Maurice was right—Mulder had lured Scully out to the haunted house under false pretenses, and it was he, not the ghost, who had stolen Scully's keys to keep her from leaving. He admitted it: it was a childish act, and one he still hadn't copped to, let alone apologized for to his partner. 

The gift exchange had been a welcome distraction. Thank heavens he'd bought her something. It was essentially a gag-gift, but it wasn't a thoughtless one. 

It wasn't as though things had ever been easy for them, but the past year had sucked and sucked hard. The basement office fire. Nearly losing Scully to the mass burnings on the bridge. Nearly losing her again to the Consortium's infernal human experiments. The mess with Diana. 

They'd both been careful not to mention it, but this time last year, she was burying a daughter she'd never known. 

There was no way he could ever give back to her all that she'd lost. 

No matter what people at the Bureau or Scully's family might think, it wasn't his charming personality and washboard abs keeping her around. But he wanted her to know he knew why she was there, and that he appreciated all she had sacrificed for him, and for the X-Files.

The custom made organic cotton teeshirt was his own design: Forensic Pathologists do it for Justice. 

He certainly had been disabused of his notion that apparitions were benign entities. That asshole of an amateur psychoanalyst, Maurice, hadn't minced any words with him, about his alleged narcissism, his obsessive interest in the paranormal, and, okay, his reluctance to let Scully have a life of her own. And Maurice was just getting started. That evil spirit and his Lyda had tried to trick him and Scully into a murder-suicide. The nerve.

He got it. What he'd done was unfair to her, and he was wrong, wrong, wrong. He was going to do the right thing and apologize and promise never to trick her into investigating a haunted house on a major federal holiday again. That's why he was sitting outside her apartment at 2:00 a.m., waiting for her to get back from the Scully family festivities.

The weatherman was almost right, they were getting a wet national pack-it-up and bring-it-back day. The rain had started up just after midnight while he was still on the road, an hour out from Scully's place. It was still drizzling, and the soft sound of the drops falling on the car roof and windshield was lulling him to sleep. 

A sharp tap on the window of his sedan roused him. 

"Mulder. What are you doing here?" She was holding an umbrella over her head, her raincoat fastened up against the cold and the wind, peering in at him through the rivulets collecting on the glass. She didn't exactly look happy to see him. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Scully. I wanted to see you." 

He knew what she wasn't saying aloud. But I just saw you this morning, Mulder. Against my better judgment, I spent Christmas Eve with you, Mulder. Not everything is about you, Mulder.

Wait. He wasn't here to feed his "paramasturbatory illusions." He was supposed to be apologizing to Scully. 

He rolled the window down a crack. "Can I come up, just for a few minutes? I have something I want to tell you, and I'd rather do it inside. If you'll let me in," he added unnecessarily.

She had on her long-suffering, I do it all for you Mulder face, but that was okay. He loved her anyway. 

Loved her. Mulder swallowed hard, and put that one away for another rainy day.

"Fine. But only for a few minutes. It's a three day weekend. I promised my mother and Tara that we'd hit the mall later today. Since I was up most of the night yesterday, I am going to need to get some sleep tonight."

Mulder squelched his impulse to joke about women and shopping and followed Scully into her apartment. She put her umbrella in the stand by her door, and hung up her coat on the coat tree. She didn't offer to take his coat. 

Except for a small tree in one corner of her living area, and a poinsettia on her dining table, Scully's apartment wasn't really decorated for the season, not that he had a real basis for comparison. His aunt must own stock in Department 56 because her house was covered in Christmas doodads, with ceramic Santas and elves and a goddamned train running around the tree. Aunt Myrtle took "deck the halls with boughs of holly" seriously. 

Scully's approach was more subtle, tasteful. Restrained. He liked it, but then he liked almost everything about Scully. 

She was looking at him expectantly. 

"Your tree is pretty, Scully." He thought that might win him a few points but instead she frowned.

"Mulder, I'm tired. I said a few minutes. Can you please get on with it?" 

Yeah, he could. The best approach was to just say it the way he'd rehearsed it. "I lied to you, Scully. I lured you to the haunted house claiming it was a stake-out. When you found out the truth, I stole your car keys so you couldn't leave. I nearly got you killed again, all because of my obsessions..." _My loneliness._ Shit. He was doing it again. Maurice was right. He really was a narcissist. He gave himself a mental shake and made himself look her in the eye. "I'm sorry, Scully. The truth is...I'm a selfish bastard. I promise it won't ever happen again." 

_The truth is I love you and I'm only happy when I'm with you._

She smiled slightly, and took his wrist and gave it a squeeze. "Apology accepted, Mulder." She looked at him slyly. "It wasn't such a terrible way to spend Christmas Eve, investigating a legendary haunted house, apart from the murder-suicide aspect. You should know I enjoy a good scare. _The Exorcist_ is one of my favorite movies, remember?"

He did. "I prefer _Aliens_ , myself." She smiled a little wider at that. "So I didn't totally ruin your holiday?"

"Not at all. But I'm going to need to kick you out now so I can get some sleep."

Mulder let her lead him to the door. She was yawning openly now, barely concealing it behind a half-closed hand. Her hair was curling loosely around her face like it did whenever it rained. He loved when it did that. So what if they weren't lovers? He heard Lyda's voice, "And this isn't a pure science. But you're both so attractive and there'll be a lot of time to work that out." But what if there wasn't? What if this was it for them? Ghosts of Christmas Past aside, Mulder wasn't sure about the afterlife, but he was sure about this one. No one had ever meant as much to him as Scully. No one ever would.

"Take my umbrella, Mulder. It's wet out there tonight. You're going to get soaked." 

"Thanks." He took it out of the stand, holding it over the entry mat. "Well, I guess I'd better get going, let you get your beauty rest."

"Good night, Mulder." As she reached her arms up, he bent over so she could pull him down to her level. Another forehead kiss. He was actually looking forward to it, even closing his eyes. God, he had it bad.

But she fooled him. With both hands on his face, she gently pressed her lips to his, startling him into dropping the umbrella to the floor, which caused her to pull away. At the same time as his eyes opened up, her hands went down to her sides. She looked flushed and a little embarrassed, but also really awake. Maybe their time had finally arrived. There was only one way to find out. Was it worth the risk?

He heard Lyda's voice again, as she was handing him his gun, "Take it. Think of it as the last Christmas you'll ever spend alone." 

Mulder decided it was. Scully was looking at his mouth. She was licking her lips. She was edging ever closer--and so was he. 

"You surprised me," he said, his voice a little husky. 

"I surprised myself," she said, her eyes never breaking contact.

"I liked it." He had been wanting to kiss her for years. After Scully had rescued him from the wreckage of the ghost ship (was that only a few weeks ago?), her reaction to his profession of love wasn't what he'd hoped, though it was what he'd expected given the circumstances. That didn't mean his feelings weren't true. Maybe instead of telling her, he needed to show her. Anyone could say the word. Scully always preferred to see hard evidence. 

He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her as passionately as he'd kissed her glamorous 1939 doppleganger. Time travel made everything so complicated—and yet so simple. This time Scully had made the first move. The next one was going to have to be his. 

He'd better make it soon. She'd broken eye contact and was starting to edge away. 

"Wait, Scully. Please." At his command, she stopped. Her eyes looking up at him were liquid but her posture was confident and open. He stepped forward and carefully reached for her face. As she turned her face to his, he brushed her cheek with his fingertips, smoothed the errant lock of hair. She closed her eyes in response to the caress but made no move to touch him. 

Last summer when he'd tried to kiss her, it had nearly ended in disaster. They'd gotten through it, survived all of it: the bee, his gunshot wound, the alien virus, the frenzied trip to Antarctica. He'd saved her; she'd saved him. They would always have that, always be that to one another: the person holding the other end of the rope. 

Maybe, just maybe, they could have this too. 

Mulder took a step forward, and reached out his arms for her. She came to him. 

This time, when her arms went up, he lifted her into his, her legs wrapping around his waist as though they'd done this hundreds of times before. 

"Do you..." he started to say but he was interrupted by her mouth sucking on his lower lip. Okay, until he heard otherwise, he was going to take that as a yes. His cock was taking it the same way. The couch was tempting, especially with the little tree in the background, but the first time people had sex, it was usually in a bed, for good reason. Scully had a bed, a nice firm-looking queen-size that he passed every time he had to use her bathroom. Her tongue was doing amazing things, tracing along his jawline. Shit. He hadn't shaved since this morning. Sex was not part of his dropping-in-uninvited routine with Scully. Maybe that was going to change now. 

Where was he going again? The bedroom.

For Mulder, both an eternity and mere seconds passed as he carried her across the living room. Navigating was hard. The novel sensation of her tongue in his mouth was so distracting he kept forgetting to move his legs. Finally he reached her bedroom and sat down on the mattress, one hand cupping her firm little bottom, the other moving tentatively toward her breasts. The last time he'd seen her naked was last summer while he was removing her from that incubation chamber in the spaceship. He was certain she would look better if not covered in alien goo. He moaned into her mouth as she sucked on his tongue. It was a good thing that she was taking care of the kissing part. Maybe women were better at multitasking. 

While he was fumbling with the buttons on her shirt, Scully took the opportunity to push him onto his back, straddle his pelvis and begin unbuckling his belt. 

Mulder wasn't shy about his body. Still, it sure seemed like she was in a big hurry. 

"Um, Scully," he croaked. Deftly she unfastened his fly and pulled his cock out of his boxers, not even bothering with pulling them down. She took him firmly in hand and gently ran her thumb over the head, gathering the pre-cum and rubbing it along the edge. "Scully." 

Her mouth was slightly open, her breathing a little faster than usual. "Mulder, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." As she clasped both palms around his cock, involuntarily he thrust into her hands. "You like that?" She smiled and licked her lips again. 

Mulder found this impossibly sexy. "Yes, I do. But can we please. Slow this down. Maybe. Get undressed first?"

"Which is it, then? Take it slow, or take it off? Because I think getting naked is going to speed things up..." She continued to stroke him as she talked, using both hands in a disconcertingly coordinated and-- Oh God--effective fashion. No, this would not do; he could feel his balls pulling up against his body; he was getting impossibly close. Dammit. He wasn't a kid. He was pushing forty.

"Scully, wait." She quit moving her hands, although she didn't actually let go of his dick. "May I undress you?" She nodded, and began moving her hands again on his shaft. He took his hands and removed hers from his penis. "Lie down, next to me, please." Reluctantly, she climbed off him and laid down on the bed. 

"I never know what to do with my hands when someone else is undressing me." She crossed her arms over her breasts, shivering a little, with anticipation he hoped.

Mulder quickly pulled off his teeshirt, carefully tucked his now fully erect penis back into his boxers. He kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks and shed his jeans. He lay back down and turned over to where she lay waiting for him, her eyes now half-lidded and drowsy. He embraced her, stroked her hair, and nuzzled her head. He could feel her heart pounding. Or maybe that was him? "We don't have to do this tonight, we can wait." 

There was a pregnant pause while she appeared to consider his suggestion. Her fingers teased the hair on his chest as she tilted her head up for a long, breathless kiss. Taking his face in her hands, she stared into his eyes. "Mulder, I do believe we have waited long enough."

She sighed happily while he undid the buttons on her shirt. She moaned with approval as he became distracted by her breasts while removing her bra. Her nipples responded favorably to both tonguing and gentle sucking, he was pleased to see. 

She giggled when he tried pulling off her slacks without unfastening the side zipper, plus two buttons, one on the inside, one facing out. When did women's clothing get so complicated? He didn't remember having this much trouble when he was younger. He let her remove her pantyhose. Finally they were both naked, side by side. 

Reaching again for his cock, which was now almost painfully erect, she studied it thoughtfully. "I think this first time will go better if I fuck you, Mulder." Seeing his face, she reassured him. "You won't hurt me. The vagina is a very resilient organ. And you're not _that_ large." 

Was Scully playing doctor? The juxtaposition of clinical jargon and profanity was enthralling. 

He groaned as she eased down onto his cock for the first time, grateful she had taken control. Fuck. She wasn't kidding. This was a tight fit. 

"I feel you, Mulder. I feel you," she whispered. 

He could feel her, too, her knees gripping tightly against his hips as she ground herself on his pubic bone. Her small hand moved his thumb to her clit, showing him the spot and the pressure she liked. He let her set her own pace, moving to her rhythm, watching his cock disappearing inside her slick heat. 

"Yes," he managed in response. Feeling her hands on his chest her sweet hair and her face, oh God her face. How much he loved her...Scully. Scully. Scully.

~/~/~

"Maybe stealing your keys wasn't such a bad idea after all; in fact, maybe we should go back to that house every year on Christmas Eve," he mused, while she was in the bathroom washing up. She returned with a glass of cold water for him and a towel for the wet spot.

She snorted. "I don't think so." She took the glass away, arranged the towel, nudged him into position and snuggled up against him. "Anyway, I think we'll have a better way to spend it next year, don't you agree?" 

He did.

And they did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to my dear tree, beta goddess, for her careful editing, tactful suggestions on how to make this better, and enthusiastic cheerleading. ♥


End file.
